


Awake

by Somedrunkpirate



Series: Regrette Rien [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Experimental Dreams, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Somnacin testing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 09:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10383906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedrunkpirate/pseuds/Somedrunkpirate
Summary: Arthur and Eames wake up.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> One of the Lazy Sunday endings.

Waking up from has a dream has a strict routine for Arthur.

He wakes but keeps his eyes closed to give himself 3 seconds to recover from whatever death he woke up from. After, he sits up straight and composed. He pulls out the IV, checks for blood before he pulls down his rolled up sleeve, and closes the buttons.  He stands up.

Arthur does this all like clockwork. It takes 15 seconds precisely.

It takes years of repetition to perfect a waking up routine. Arthur is proud of his. He has gone through years of professional dreamshare work and has never once deviated from it.

Until today.

\--

Arthur shoots up from his chair. He feels like he is waking up from his first successful extraction in dreamsharing all over again.  The air is filled with anticipation, and a broad grin forms automatically. An excited shiver rushes through his body, and he can’t do anything but look over at Eames, even as he pulls his IV out without any sophistication. 

Eames is still laying down on his chair, his hands covering his face. Arthur sees him take in a few rapid breaths. He  gives Eames a moment. While he waits, he straightens his shirtsleeve. He can see their chemist and architect in the corner, keeping their distance, but they can sense his excitement and Arthur can practically feel their hope from here. Arthur turns towards Eames, lays his elbows on his knees, and wrings his hands impatiently. 

Eames rubs his eyes and groans. “It was a bloody dream, wasn’t it,” he says, stretching his hands above his head. Arthur looks at him and can’t help but grin broadly. 

The chemist, Megan, quite literally squeals and high-fives the architect.  Arthur can’t bring himself to disprove of the unprofessional behaviour. 

“Yes,” he replies. “And you passed every test, including direct discussion of the dream. Did the shield work?” 

Eames nods. “Yeah, you kept talking about a prison sentence or something.” 

Arthur laughs, delighted. “Eames, we actually did it,” he says; he feels his whole body thrumming with possibility. “We successfully circumvented dream reality.” 

Eames is finally looking at Arthur, a slow smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, yeah, we did it, didn’t we.” Eames grins as he grabs Arthur’s hand. Arthur shivers, not only from the rush of success. Eames takes Arthur’s hand in both of his own and kisses it softly. 

“I’m proud of you, darling,” he says, smiling. Arthur’s smile widens until he dimples, almost controlled by Eames’s words. 

“It was the both of us.” Arthur replies decisively. “All of us,” he says, turning his attention to the two others in the room. Eames is still holding his hand but Arthur can’t bring himself to care. Megan and Tommy are smiling back at them. 

“It seems we have done a fully successful run this time, guys,” Arthur says, pride inflicting his voice. He tries to reign in his smile but all hope is lost. Tommy and Megan just wait patiently, their own smiles threatening to break their faces in half. 

“Despite this recent event, the rest stays the same. Eames and I will debrief, you guys have the rest of evening off, and tomorrow we will reflect.” Arthur says. He turns back to Eames, who is staring intently in his face. 

“Off you pop,” Eames calls toward the decidedly unwelcome people still in the warehouse, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s face. Tommy and Megan  laugh at them as the door closes. 

“So darling,” Eames starts, but Arthur puts a stop to the needless talking and straddles Eames in one smooth move. The laugh that the move pulls out of Eames gets cut off by a desperate kiss. Arthur pulls back after a moment, breathing heavily. He puts his forehead on Eames’ and dimples. 

“Eames, we actually did it,” Arthur says before dropping a quick kiss again. “We actually – fucking - did it.” Arthur kisses Eames between the words. 

Eames chuckles. “We are going to do this more often, love. I like you like this.” He smiles cheekily, but Arthur can see the intensity in his eyes. He is just as thrilled as Arthur is.

They rearrange themselves into a more comfortable position, both all too happy to do this round of debriefing in each other’s arms.  

“So, what did you do when you had free reign of my subconscious, darling?” Eames asks. 

“I snooped around a bit, as usual,” Arthur answers. 

“Hmm?” Eames inquires, and Arthur smiles. Eames has always had a peculiar interest in the inner workings of his own mind. 

“Did you know you have a cathedral made entirely out of glass where you store your memories?” Arthur asks. 

Eames shakes his head. 

“It’s beautiful; the sunlight shines through it and bounces off the glass like stars. It is filled to the brim with all kinds of paintings, those are your memories.” Arthur remembers it fondly; he had stood in awe for a long minute when he had found the place. 

“You had a dog, a German Shepard, with one blue eye and one green eye,” Arthur says. 

“Gina,” Eames says, chuckling. “She was a lovely lass.” 

“Yeah,” Arthur says. “You have this whole section full of her, just rows and rows.” 

“Good memories,” Eames sighs. He looks away in the distance. 

Arthur gives him a minute before asking a question that has been on his mind since he woke  up. “The painting you painted, was that a memory too?” 

Eames stirs out of his thoughts and smiles softly at Arthur. “Yes,” he says. “Venice.”

“The job?” Arthur asks. 

Eames nods in agreement but elaborates a second later. “Not the job, exactly. I stayed behind for a while, to gather my thoughts.” 

Arthur thinks back to that job. It had gone smoothly: a rich banker had had pertinent information that could make or break a deal with shareholders, and a rival company wanted to know the information for their own ends. Nothing they hadn’t done a thousand times before. The job had been pulled off without any complications, not something Arthur would have thought Eames had to reflect on afterwards.   

Eames watches him mull it over in his head, visibly amused. He stills Arthur’s thinking with a hand on his arm. 

“It was when I both realised and fully accepted that I was in love with you,” Eames says to Arthur, smiling. 

“But-” 

That’s before they started their casual arrangement, if you could call it that. He had accepted Eames’s ludicrous flirtations exactly three times, and he had stopped when he realised he couldn’t compartmentalize his feelings for Eames while being involved with him. Eames had been in love with him that whole time? Arthur curses violently in his head. He had thought Eames’ feelings for him had changed after inception, which had eventually lead to what they have become now. But it had been years; Eames had loved him for  _ years _ before that. 

“Yes.” Eames answers, despite the fact that Arthur didn’t finish his sentence. “Yeah, that was before that, yeah.” Eames smiles again, a bit self-deprecatingly. “But I was a fool in love, how was I supposed to deny myself the little bit that was on offer?” 

“We could have had this so much sooner,” Arthur realises, exasperated. He shakes his head. “We are fucking emotionally constipated idiots,” he says bitterly. 

Eames agrees, silently chuckling. “That we certainly are, darling.”  


	2. Chapter Two

After the inception job, Arthur accompanied Cobb back to his children and helped set up a safe environment for the family. He let the right people know that Cobb was out of the game and informed the community of inception’s success. He hoped it would give Eames’s reputation another boost, not as a forger- he didn’t need that- but rather, as an extractor.   
  
Arthur knew Eames had a casual interest in the role and making the dreamshare community excited for his potential shift was the least Arthur could do. Eames had been the driving force behind the success of inception; Arthur was very conscious of this, so credit should be given where it was due. It was also an apology for the mess that was Cobb, and Arthur’s own mistake; the militarisation.

Arthur thought that presenting Eames as the extractor to look out for - now that Cobb was retired -  was very professional and polite, and made sure that the information was not traceable to himself. Eames called him days later and proceeded to laugh his ass off, before thanking him for the recommendations and praise.

Arthur hung up on him before he could die of embarrassment.

\--

Their next meeting was a few months later. Arthur had pulled off a few simple jobs, but his failure in inception was still bothering him. The fact that him missing one paper trail had put the whole job into jeopardy was grating on him. To make a bad situation worse, militarisation was becoming more commonplace. While at first militarisation had been a luxury for the richest of the rich, the increasing competition had lowered the prices. Any high ranking businessmen could, for a reasonable price, be militarised.

The dreamshare community was one of adaptation and fast technological progress, but this was where they were severely lacking; there was no strategy that fully deconstructed militarisation and its effects. Militarisation was only getting more advanced and dreamshare technology was falling dangerously behind.

This was the problem that Arthur proposed to Eames while they sat in a dingy café in Mombasa. Arthur had a dark cup of coffee, Eames a cup of tea which seemed to have flowers in it. Arthur gave a heavy file to Eames, filled with research, theories, and hypotheses that Arthur had collected and authored in the past month. Eames looked through it quickly, while Arthur sipped his coffee. When Eames was satisfied, Arthur leaned back in his chair, trying to cover up his nervousness and anxiety with a casual pose.  

Eames mirrored his position and played with his chip nonchalantly. He looked at Arthur intently.

“You know I don’t blame you for inception, right, darling?” He asked. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“Regardless of any failures on my part. Militarisation is becoming a rampant problem in dreamshare, Mr Eames. The inception job has no relevance to this project. I am here to ask: do you want to help fix this problem, yes or no?”

Eames kept looking at him but eventually sighed.

“I’m in, darling. Wouldn’t want to miss it,” he replied, grinning broadly. “We did inception, there isn’t anything we can’t handle.”

\--

The first few times, the custom blend was a failure on all accounts. Arthur was both the subject and dreamer in the worst of these failures.

They were in a relatively quiet dreamspace; Arthur’s subconscious had built a small forest on the edge of a cliff that overlooked a summery valley with a lake in the middle. Trouble came when the cliff crumbled under them, taking Eames with it. Arthur screamed his lungs out, and with a swift movement derived purely out of reflexes, he dropped to the ground, his hand a vice around Eames’s wrist. Eames looked up at him, eyes wide.

“I won’t let go,” Arthur wheezed. “I won’t, Eames, please.” Arthur took a deep ragged breath and looked past Eames to the depths below him. Eames would die if Arthur let go. Eames would die. It kept repeating inside Arthur’s head, over and over. His heart in his throat, he kept pleading and mumbling. Tears started to form in the corners of Arthur’s eyes, black splotches appeared in his vision from lack of oxygen; Arthur was hyperventilating. He didn’t hear Eames calling his name until -

“Darling? Darling, I am going to let go now, okay?” Eames said calmly. Arthur started out of his blind panic with a wretched sound. His shoulders ached but he tried to pull up Eames’ heavy weight anyway.

“Love, I’m not going to die, I’m going to wake up and so are you.” Eames said, looking up at Arthur with a concerned frown on his face. Arthur shook his head fervently, digging his fingers deeper into Eames’ wrist.

“Don’t do this please. Eames, please don’t leave me… God.” Arthur drew in a ragged breath, tears now streaming freely down his face. Eames’ face was pulled tight in concern and hurt.

“I’ll see you topside, love, I promise,” Eames said, and let go.

Arthur screamed his name, trying to reach for a hand that wasn’t there anymore.

He woke up.

Arthur kept his eyes closed. His breathing was coming rapidly, but he forced himself to breathe normally. In and out.

3..2..1.  

Arthur opened his eyes and sat up straight in one smooth movement. He took another deep breath and pulled out his IV. He ignored the heavy stare that Eames was leveling on him, just put his shirt back in order, with the buttons neatly done and the fabric straightened out with a practiced tug.

“Arthur,” Eames said, but Arthur held up a hand to stop him. He turned towards Megan and shook his head.

“This compound is not functional.” He said while shrugging on his jacket, Megan cursed.

“How so?” She finally asked, frustration almost palatable around her. Her hopes had been too high, Arthur noted. That was something she would have to work on.

“Firstly, the dream collapsed maybe 5 minutes after we got in.” Arthur recounted, Megan bit her lip and took some notes. Eames was still looking at him, Arthur didn’t meet his eyes.

“Secondly, high emotional responses induced by the mix. Unprecedented.” Arthur clenched his jaw and shivered. Megan just nodded, and moved back to her lab.

“I’m taking a quick break.” Arthur announced to the room. “Keep on working while I’m gone please, we have much improvement to make.”

Arthur grabbed his coat and pulled it over his jacket - it had been snowing this morning. He checked his pockets for a packet of cigarettes and walked to the backdoor of the warehouse, where the building sheltered a small space from the icy winds.

Arthur didn’t have to look back to know that Eames was following him outside.

Arthur leaned against the wall, a small cloud of condensation came out of his mouth when he sighed; his breath turned visible in the cold. He reached into his pockets and offered Eames the first cigarette, in the hope that he wouldn’t talk with something to do.

It never worked, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Eames took the cigarette and used his own lighter to light it. Arthur was lighting his own cigarette, one hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the cold winds that had, despite the shelter from warehouse, slipped through. He turned his body away from Eames, looking out into the parking place with disinterest; his thoughts too prominently in his mind to take in much of his surroundings. He could see Eames cross his arms in the corner of his eye. Arthur took another pull, resigned.

“Darling,” Eames said. Arthur didn’t  react but didn’t stop him either; there was nothing that would stop Eames if he wanted to talk.

“Arthur?” Eames asked. Arthur nodded imperceptibly to show he was listening.

“What happened in that dream, darling? What you told Megan isn’t the whole story, you were-” Eames cut himself off, and sighed. Arthur heard him move behind him and when a hand was placed on his shoulder, he barely managed to suppress a flinch.

Eames was waiting on a explanation, Arthur knew. Eames always wanted to know about whatever he didn’t understand, which, at the moment, was Arthur himself. An endearing quality on some days, but now it was a bother. Arthur could try to evade, but Eames wouldn’t let it go.  Arthur took his last pull from his cigarette, and flicked it on the ground,  stepping on it with the heel of his shoe. His movement had displaced Eames’ hand but he kept close; Arthur could feel the warmth of him burning into his side.

What Arthur had told Megan, and indirectly Eames, hadn’t been a lie. The compound had had an hyperbolic effect on Arthur’s emotions. He could feel their echoes still; the heavy pressure of them. They had controlled his reactions.

Normally, high pressure situations sharpened his mind and focus, stripping him down to the most effective and efficient version of himself. A weapon, a soldier.

In this dream, emotions had reduced him to a panicking mess. Useless.

But to blame this reaction fully onto the compound had been a stretch. Arthur knew that in a real life situation, with Eames in danger, he would have felt exactly the same, only they would’ve been kept at bay by an controlled detachment. He could use the emotions as fuel, to push through, to save Eames and himself.

The mix had triggered panic and had put it on full display, for Eames to see and experience.

In the absence of a reaction, Eames had started talking again.

“Arthur, talk to me please. I know it was more than just a compound side effect. I was there and your reaction… it concerns me,” he said. Arthur clenched his fists.

“I will not compromise anything because of my _reactions,_ Mr Eames. Don’t worry.” He snapped at him, and finally turned towards him. Eames had stayed close, and Arthur was surprised by the posture he held. Eames’ shoulders were hunched, making him look smaller than he was. He glancing at Arthur's face warily, like he wanted to come closer but was sure it wasn’t welcomed. _He looks  lost_ , Arthur thought.

“Love, you know that is not what I meant.” He said. Arthur glanced to the ground.

The dream had broken down all the walls Arthur had built over the years, and Arthur ached to take a step forward and fall into Eames. Suddenly, just visual confirmation wasn’t enough, Arthur needed to feel him, make sure he was real and alive and let himself just be _with_ Eames.

“Darling,” Eames said softly. A finger traced Arthur’s jaw and he shivered. “Come here.”

Arthur felt his resolve crumble and leaned forward, trusting he would be caught and held.

Eames wrapped his arms around him. Arthur buried his face into the crook of his neck and took a deep jagged breath. He felt his body go lax, the tension and stress of the day washed away by strong arms, and a heartbeat he felt rather than heard, pulsing steadily beneath Arthur’s lips.

“Oh, darling” Eames whispered, his chin propped up on Arthur's head. Arthur put his arm around Eames’ waist and held on tightly, all hesitance had gone; Eames’ fond voice gave him the confidence he had needed.

“It’s okay, love,” Eames said and kissed him on his forehead. Arthur shivered and sighed happily, calm and safe and right.

“I’m okay, we’re alive. It’s okay.” Eames mumbled.

Arthur slowly started to believe him.

\--

They changed after that. When Eames’ hotel room reservation ended, Eames’ stuff magically appeared in Arthur’s rooms, without any need for conversation.

For all that Arthur was thankful for the recent events, improvement in the project was disappointingly slow. Arthur got more frustrated every day, his confidence in the work taking heavy punches. The nights with Eames kept him afloat, but the pressure of stress and expectations were straining on him. On one particular occasion, Arthur had icily listed all the faults Tommy embodied, bringing him to tears. Eames had pulled him aside with a huff and told him in no uncertain terms that a break was in order. That weekend, Arthur introduced Eames to his idea of a Lazy Sunday.

Refreshed from the quick break, they both came back with a clear mind and new ideas.

They found, in their more successful test runs, that visual hints signifying it was a dream were relatively easy to blind the dreamer from. Their compound mixed with sedatives kept the dreamer in a deep REM sleep, but with a clear mind. The dreamer would feel like they had full control of their thoughts and surroundings, which was a good basis for a fake reality the conscious mind would buy into. Megan had had a stroke of genius when she added some dopamine to the mix; not only did the dreamer accept the reality, the mind would actively participate to keep the pretense going.

The brain filtered the abstract and the abnormal right out of the situation, just to create a comfortable reality. It was confronting the dreamer with words that brought the surreality right back into the conscious mind.

At first, any word would break the fragility of the dream, even after many changes to the compound. Language only slightly relatable to dreams would trigger the militarisation, or worse; wake up the dreamer. It was Arthur who came up with the idea to fight fire with fire, or words with words.

A conversation that the dreamer’s subconscious would pick up and obsess over; a one layer inception, almost.  The conversation would place itself over any mention of dreams and related concepts.  A shield.

It was a ridiculous idea, but Eames had been over the moon and had kissed him enthusiastically, mumbling about imagination.

It had been the last piece of the puzzle that would set them to plant a reality into a dreaming mind. Not only would the dreamer accept his reality easily, but the subconscious mind would also actively write over everything that was out of bounds.

When a subconscious mind does not even _accept_ the possibility that its reality is a dream, defence mechanisms like militarisation cannot be triggered.

They celebrated that night; Tommy knew a good sushi place in the local area, and they drank the night away. Arthur was cautiously hopeful and laughed with them. Next week it would be show-time. Their first full blown test. He was going to convince Eames’ brain it was in reality when it actually wasn’t; he would try to trick the most weathered dreamer in dreamshare. Arthur was looking forward to it.  

\--

They succeeded.


	3. Chapter Three

They settle in their own chairs. Arthur is itching to clean up and go home, but he doesn’t want to rush. They don't need to, not anymore. Eames is grinning at him still. 

“We passed the whole test darling! There were no projections.” Eames starts to list their accomplishments, counting on his fingers as he goes.

He pauses for confirmation and resumes talking when Arthur nods. “You set up an very effective shield.” 

Arthur smiles, secretly proud of himself. 

“You could sift through my secrets without the dream falling apart; you could influence time without my subconscious picking up the abnormality. ” 

“You painted for 8 hours straight.” Arthur chuckles. Eames lowers his hand and grimaces. Arthur shakes his head, knowing what Eames is thinking. “In reality, you’ve never managed more than 5 hours.”  

Eames sighs before getting back to debriefing. Arthur lets him.

“Anyway, everything has worked out perfectly, darling. We can start the next phase.” 

“And that is?” Arthur stands up to grab his moleskin. 

“Trials on people who aren’t us, love. We don’t know how much of this success is influenced by our mutual trust; a stranger's mind most likely wouldn’t take as well to our meddling,” Eames says. 

Arthur stares at him. 

“And you are telling me this now?” he says, eyes wide.  “Fuck you, Eames.” Arthur says, his jubilation taken down a few notches. The emotional connection between the two of them could have been influencing the results. He curses; he  _ always _ misses something. 

Eames puts a hand on Arthur’s tense shoulder, crowding into his space. “Don’t despair darling, it is only a theory, it could work the same. This was the biggest hurdle; any work after this are just little tweaks and fixes.” 

Eames sighs. “I didn’t tell you because I knew it would throw you off track. You already were spread out thin.” 

Arthur huffs but doesn’t shake off Eames’s hand. 

“For your sake, I hope it works on the first trial.”  

\-- 

“How about HTGROBM?” Eames asks. 

“What does that mean and what are we talking about?” Arthur responds, used to Eames’ sudden tangents.  

“It means ‘How To Get Rid Of Bloody Militarization.’ It’s the name of the thing we made, dove. You need to name your inventions.” Eames says. “Arthur, you’re a scientist you should know this.”

“I am a researcher-” 

“You say tometo, I say tomato,” Eames interrupts. 

“...and I’m not going to call it that,” Arthur finishes, eyes narrowing. 

“It doesn’t roll of the tongue smoothly, I agree…” Eames says. He looks up, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Okay darling. Option B, GTF, or ‘Get this fuckers!’” Eames says, grinning at Arthur, who shakes his head decisively. 

Eames grabs Arthur’s moleskin and begins flipping through it absentmindedly, letting his mind wander.  

Then he suddenly beames at Arthur, like a kid in a candy store. 

“Oh! I know! The Darling Technique! Geniuses name things after themselves, you know.” 

Arthur sighs.  “I’m not gonna call it that, Eames.”

Eames pouts and writes down  _ Stick-in-the-mud Strategy  _ and shows it to Arthur proudly. 

Arthur flicks his pen against Eames’ forehead, and steals his moleskin back. He crosses out the ridiculous name and writes the real name down with finality. 

_ Militarization Eradication Method.   _

He looks at Eames. “MEM for short,” Arthur says, and puts the notebook in his pocket. 

“Meme,” Eames says smiling, “I can live with that,” and pecks Arthur on his nose. Arthur rolls his eyes.  Eames grabs him and drapes himself over Arthur’s back. 

“You know what was best about that dream, darling?” Eames murmurs into Arthur’s neck. 

“What?” Arthur says, distracted, trying to ready his PASIV while Eames continues to cling to him. 

“It’s Sunday tomorrow, love. We can have a Lazy Sunday all over again; for real this time,” Eames says.

Arthur feels him smiling against his skin. He clicks the silver case closed and turns around to look into Eames’ eyes. 

“That would be lovely, Mr. Eames.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by the usual suspects: Iamanonniemouse, therealpigfarts27 and opalecentgold <3 
> 
> Hope you liked it and please comment if you do!


End file.
